Chapter 8 - The Price of Ruin
I did not cross the room to hold her.
Every maternal instinct in my body screamed at me to kneel beside her, wrap my arms around her trembling shoulders, and tell her that Mommy would fix everything. That I would write a check, hire the lawyers, pay off the leases, and make the bad dream vanish.
That had been my mistake for twenty-nine years.
Every time Joselyn scraped her knee, failed an exam, overspent an allowance, or made an irresponsible choice, Frances Weber had stepped in with a checkbook and an engineering plan to smooth over the rough edges of reality. I had raised a daughter who believed the world was an elastic band that would always snap back into place because her mother was standing behind her to absorb the shock.
"Get up, Joselyn," I said softly.
She looked up, her tear-streaked face bewildered by my refusal to comfort her. "Mom?"
"Get up off the floor."
She scrambled to her feet, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, looking like a lost child in expensive clothes.
"Sit in that chair and listen to me," I commanded.
She obeyed, sinking back into the leather seat, her chest heaving with silent sobs.
"Sandra Okafor and Martin Diaz will review the documents you signed," I said, my voice steady, professional, and devoid of warmth. "If you committed fraud willingly, you will face the legal consequences. If you were merely negligent, Sandra will negotiate with the landlords and creditors to settle your secondary exposure."
"Thank you," she gasped. "Thank you, Mom, I knew you wouldn't—"
"I am not paying for it," I interrupted.
Joselyn froze. "What?"
"Weber Engineering will not spend a single dollar to settle your personal liabilities. Sandra's legal fees will be billed to you. We will set up a structured repayment plan. You will surrender the keys to the luxury condominium I bought you; the deed is in my company's name, and I will be leasing it out to one of our junior project managers. You will find a modest studio apartment within your salary’s budget."
"Mom, I can't afford that!" she cried, panicked. "My 401(k) is gone! My salary at the design firm barely covers my car payment and my living expenses!"
"Then you will sell the car," I replied without hesitation. "You will buy a used transit pass. You will cook your meals at home. You will learn the true value of a dollar, Joselyn, because you have spent twenty-nine years treating my labor like an endless natural resource."
"You're abandoning me," she whispered, her eyes wide with shock. "When I need you most, you're abandoning me."
May you like
"No," I answered, walking to my desk and picking up the framed photograph of Robert holding Joselyn on his shoulders at the beach when she was four years old. "I abandoned you when I allowed you to become a person who could discard her own mother for a con man’s approval. What I am doing today is the first real act of parenting I have performed in ten years."
***
